


Love to Hate me, Hate to Love me

by Queen_of_Milktea



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Questioning, Religion, rachel is a choir girl, the Cheerios are a lacrosse team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-04-05 11:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_Milktea/pseuds/Queen_of_Milktea
Summary: “I’m fucking gay and deal with it”“I don’t care what God thinks”“This is me”“Same”ORQuinn Fabray goes to a strict Christian school, but when she starts questioning her sexuality and she finds nowhere to go, she grafitis over the bathroom walls to vent her frustration.And one day she finds a reply underneath, written in whimsical cursive and cute hearts.





	1. Chapter 1

Quinn Fabray. Captain of the school’s lacrosse team. Proud Christian. Family oriented. Little miss popular. 

_“Psst, can you pass me your test?”_

__“Brittany, for the last time, you have to do this test yourself”_ _

_Quinn Fabray. Doesn't like tests. At all. Or sitting here in this stuffy room that only had cheap fans that actually circled the hot air around the room instead of making it cool. And she hated it. Her uniform stuck to her like glue and sweat was beating down her forehead. She felt sick. And she was sick of this place._

__“But I don’t know what’s going on…”_ _

___“I don’t care”_ _ _

___Quinn Fabray. Really and sick of tired of life. And being here. And being her._ _ _

___“Miss?” she shot her arm into the air, feeling her blouse literally glue onto her arm. She cringed. “May I be excused to the bathroom?”_ _ _

___“Well you would have to hand in your exam,” she rose from her chair and neatly placed it down onto her desk. "You're not going to be able to do it again Miss Fabray."_ _ _

___“That’s alright Miss. Thank you.”_ _ _

___One positive about this school was the lack of hall passes. _Because every girl is absolutely angelic and can be trusted_. Until they break any rule. Then they’re screwed for the next few years. _ _ _

___But Quinn Fabray is not that girl. She _is_ perfect. And she’s the poster child for what every parent wanted. _ _ _

___She lowered the toilet seat and sat down. At least it was cooler in here. It was cleaner than you’d expect. She attended a prestigious private school, which meant that they had cleaners that could actually do their jobs._ _ _

___So _this_ was going to be harder than anything she had ever done._ _ _

___She clicked open the marker in her hand, hearing it echo slightly in her cubicle. And then she pressed her palm up against the smooth wall, feeling how cool it was._ _ _

___Quinn Fabray. Secret rebel. A girl with regrets. Unintentionally sins. Probably, maybe closeted lesbian._ _ _

___The letter **I** is feminine yet bold on the pure white walls. And that’s when she realised that she actually broke the rules for the first time in her life. But there was no going back now._ _ _

___So she wrote along the back of the cubicle door, her words just messy enough to not look like her own writing. She proceeded to end it with a large exclamation point._ _ _

____I’m fucking gay. Deal with it_ _ _ _

____And that was the first time Quinn Fabray ever came out._ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

____“Gross. This uniform is freaking ugly, and I’m sick of wearing these colours,” Santana complains, her fingers picking at the fabric of the plaided skirt._ _ _ _

____“Same. I just want to wear our lacrosse uniforms,” Brittany adds._ _ _ _

____“But we need to follow the school rules, remember?” Quinn reminds, her voice sounding borderline patronising._ _ _ _

____They’re at assembly, which happened exactly at 10:00AM every morning. It’s for morning readings of the bible, worship, prayers and the school choir to sing some biblical melody. Quinn’s anticipation soon grew thin for these morning routines. Mostly because the songs were boring and there was no way that she could get away with sleeping through it all._ _ _ _

____The bible felt heavy on her lap. Carrying out that big ass book was getting tiring, but at least on the bright side it gave her muscular arms? Quinn was grasping at straws at this point. She flipped through the pages and followed the read out passages with her eyes, barely paying attention. She wondered when she grew tired of all of this. Of all the religion and all the praying._ _ _ _

____And then she heard the usual death march fill the air. The piano started, a few keys too old, and the choir began to sing. She listened to all the newer students fall out of pitch, and she cringed at it._ _ _ _

____And then there’s that one angelic voice._ _ _ _

____Rachel Berry. Sadly a talented singer. Hated by lacrosse players. Probably going to be a 40 year old virgin._ _ _ _

____Mostly because she can’t stop singing every single moment of the day. Mostly old musicals that Quinn hates. And she had this voice that makes her sound so perky but cocky and it got on her nerves._ _ _ _

____She groaned into her hand when she started singing passionately. Like always. Closing her eyes and swinging into the melody like some idiot. She gestured wildly and looked like she's pleading._ _ _ _

____Quinn heard Santana and Brittany crack up beside her. And they exchanged small mischievous grins with each other as they sat back and watched the song unfold._ _ _ _

____God, there were some pluses from being at this school; it meant that Quinn could easily sit on top of the social hierarchy and get away with most things. Like making fun of people. She loved feeling like she was at the top. It meant something to her. More than it maybe should._ _ _ _

____Quinn Fabray. Top bitch._ _ _ _

____She grinned to herself. _She could get away with anything.__ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh my god, you should’ve seen Rachel the other day,” Santana rolled her eyes, twirling her lacrosse stick recklessly. She hadn't stopped talking about her since the assembly. “She wouldn't shut up in history. I’m so done with that girl. She’s not even a true Christian, is she? I heard that her family’s Jewish.”

“Does that make her trans-Jewish?” Brittany asked, stretching out her leg with the equipment. 

“That's not a thing Brittany,” Quinn corrected. 

“And she’s in our English class. Like, we have a group task coming up, and I don’t want to deal with her,” she continued complaining, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll end up with her, knowing my luck,” Quinn joined in, a little frustrated. “But it’s fine, I’ll just make her do all the work.”

“But she’ll throw a hissy fit about it,” the captain was quickly losing her patience with Santana. She rubbed her temples. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she groaned out, ditching her stick by the equipment basket. She felt virtually claustrophobic at this school. She was sick of having a total number of 2 friends because everyone else seemed too scared of her to actually start a conversation. Being on top was one thing, but loneliness was another.

Quinn Fabray. Admittedly, kind of, lonely.

She walked down the empty hallway, her shoes clicking along the marble floors. She hated her shoes. She missed the ones she had at home. Even though she didn't really want to be at home either.

Was it odd that the bathroom was now the only place that she seemed truly safe? Because that was the harsh reality of it now. She stood by the same cubicle as before, staring blankly at her previous message. 

_I’m fucking gay. Deal with it._

It was her own handwriting but she couldn't even recognise it. It felt alien to her. 

Quinn Fabray. Maybe has schizophrenia? Because this all felt unreal.

Her eyes lowered to the supposed-to-be-blank surface, until she saw a phrase, which was beautiful curled, underneath her own. Much smaller than hers though. It was feminine, with a cute heart at the end. Like it was completely different to Quinn’s angsty writing. 

She blinked.

_Same._

It was simple. Incredibly short. But went through her chest like a bullet. She gasped at it, rubbing her eyes to test her own vision. But it was still there. Piercing through the white paint.

Quinn’s hands trembled around the pen as she held it up underneath the word.

_And I'm fine with it_

That was a lie. A complete lie. But she felt like she had the confidence to say it - _or write it at least_ \- when she was in there. She wrote it down in that cubicle because in a way, it felt like she was in a different world. Just for that moment.

Quinn Fabray. Starting to embrace herself. Little by little.

***

Quinn Fabray. Actually unlucky.

Of course she had to end up with that stupid choir girl Rachel Berry in English. She was the definition of a prep. She sat right in front of her, her hands clasped, her back straightened and Quinn could feel her blood boil the moment she plastered on a smile.

“Hi, my name is Rachel Berry,” she put out a hand. “I’m excited to work with you.”

“Well, first of all,” she slapped down her hand. “We already know each other. We’ve gone to the same school for years so we don’t need some formal introduction,” her lips were pressed into a straight line. “And second of all, let's just get this over and done with. There’s no point in making a big deal about this.”

She groaned, rubbing her temples as she gripped her pencil tightly. Maybe on the verge of cracking it. 

“Well, it actually goes towards our end of year mark so-”

“I got it,” she cut off. She moved the assessment sheet towards herself, lightly reading over the work process, and actively trying to shut the brunette out of her mind. It was just distracting to have her right there in plain sight, just looking perky and uptight. 

“So we have to construct a visual representation of the play we read from-”

“I can read,” she drew out a grumble.

“...Shakespeare…” she swallowed. “We’re not going to be able to work together if you refuse to cooperate.”

Quinn slammed down her hand.

“Okay look,” she looked at her dead in the eyes. “I don't want to work with you. The only reason I am is because we’re stuck together. Right now you’re making it really difficult for me to stand you because you won’t stop talking,” she slid the paper slowly towards her. “So just read this first. And then, we can _maybe_ start talking. Got it?”

Rachel’s eyes grew dull as she glanced down.

“You know Quinn,” her voice was timid and much lower than it was before. “You’re a very popular girl. And I know that things usually go your way,” she gazed up. “But I don’t think it’s going to work like that here.”

Quinn scoffed.

 _“Umm, here’s the notification sheet,”_ Brittany awkward peered over to them, slowly handing over the sign off sheet. Quinn wasn't able to take her eyes off of Rachel as she sat there in slight shock. So Rachel took it instead, meeting gazes with Brittany, which seemed more like a glare than anything from the blonde. 

“T-Thanks,” she yanked it towards her, signing it swiftly and somewhat messily. “There you go.”

Quinn shook her head to clear her mind for a second as she leaned towards the sign off sheet and searched for her name. Her index finger traced down the page until she halted at Rachel Berry’s.

Her signature.

It was feminine. Admittedly, a little cute. It looked like the ones from Disneyland, whimsical, and similar every time. Like she practised writing it over and over. Like a celebrity in a way. 

Quinn stared down at it, her body frozen.

“Quinn?” Rachel piped in confusion. “Are you going to write your name or-?”

“Y-Yeah,” she shook her head again. She was getting pretty lightheaded at that point. “I will. Yeah.”

She jotted down her name quickly and passed it off to the next girl. 

Rachel Berry. She might be the girl.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel somehow invited herself over into Quinn’s dorm room to work on this stupid English project. It made no real sense for the blonde, because they had weeks to do it and probably class time, but Rachel wouldn't listen. She apparently liked to start work early and to get it over and done with.

“You’re lucky my roommate's out studying in the library,” Quinn groaned, positioning herself on her bed and gesturing for the choir girl to sit by her desk. Rachel brushed her skirt down over her legs.

“I just wanted to get this work done as soon as possible,” she said, her words staccato and crisp. “Isn’t that what you want? To get this work done quickly?”

Quinn couldn't deny that. She grumbled under her breath and silently agreed. Just so Rachel didn’t have the satisfaction of winning the argument.

“So,” the blonde reluctantly started. “What should we do?”

“Well, we have to create a visual representation of Macbeth, the play we read,” Rachel expositioned. “And we have to display some sort of theme that was present throughout the play.”

“That’s so vague,” Quinn spread out her notebook by her lap and clicked her pen. “And of course it is. English is always so grey.”

“What about guilt?” the brunette asked, jotting down ideas busily on her blank pages. Quinn tried to look elsewhere to remove herself from the thought. _That thought_. In the bathroom cubicle. “We could do, like, a 3D model, or a diorama, or a painting,” she explained. “I’m capable of doing all three forms. I got an A in art class.”

“Oh wow,” the blonde drew out sarcastically, preoccupying herself by writing the date on her page. Just so she didn't have to meet her gaze. “Humble bragging. Typical.”

Rachel gave a light ‘humph’.

“Are _you_ going to be any help?” she argued. 

“Yes, actually,” she jokingly fought back with a similar perky tone. “I also got an amazing score in art. So you’re not going to impress me.”

Quinn let herself chuckle a little at her own comment. 

“Fine,” Rachel swallowed. “But are we going with my idea?”

“Yeah, why not?” she rolled her eyes as they both scribbled down notes. Quinn was slightly amazed at how pretty her writing was. Could writing actually be pretty? It was cursive, almost idealistic and awfully princess-like. Quinn cracked a small smile at it. 

Quinn Fabray. Doubting the first impressions of Rachel. Just a little.

She wanted to give it a go. Give _her_ a go. Because she couldn't be too bad, right? She just couldn't be. Because you know, everything that happened in that cubicle. 

Quinn Fabray. A little lonely. Only a little. Or so she would like to think.

“So…” Quinn decided to start a conversation for once. _Yeah, very unexpected_. Rachel snapped her head up and raised an eyebrow at her sudden conversing. “...why did you want to become a choir girl?”

“Oh,” she pondered for a moment. “I love music. I’ve always had a deep love for music since I was born. And I guess becoming a choir girl helped me get there. Any opportunity to sing, I guess,” she chuckled. “And I needed to be apart of an extracurricular activity, since our school enforces it.”

“Do you think of going into the music industry?”

“Of course,” she piped out excitedly. “But...my parents aren’t the biggest supporters of it,” she pursed her lips. “My god parents are a lot more supportive of my love for music.”

“Are you close to them?”

“They’re very close to me,” she grinned. “They’re this amazing gay couple that lives next door to me.”

Quinn blinked for a moment and shook her head.

“What?” she blurted out. “Oh...I mean.”

“Are you homophobic?” Rachel asked unknowingly, sounding more neutral than Quinn expected.

“Well…” she coughed. “I trust the bible. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Quinn Fabray. Lying to herself, and others. Because that wasn't exactly true. 

“That’s expected,” the brunette nodded off awkwardly. 

“...are you?” she asked back, her voice a little timid than before. She shuffled a little closer.

“I’m going to tell you something Quinn,” both girls gulped at the same time. 

Quinn Fabray. Expecting the best answer? Maybe. She instantly imagined her to come out. Right then and there. And it would make Quinn feel so much better and more confident. And she would say it back and they would laugh about it and maybe bond over it so-

“I’m not really Christian,” 

Quinn Fabray. Expected too much from the puny little confession. Especially considering that Quinn actually hates her. 

She shook her head and hid her embarrassment from herself by holding her breath.

“Oh. Then why are you at this school?” her tone grew colder unintentionally.

“It was the most affordable boarding school around and...well, I don’t think my parents really wanted me around,” she explained with a grin. A grin that was stretched out awkwardly.

“Well,” she swallowed. Hard. And glanced down. “I don’t think mine wanted me around either,” Rachel widened her eyes. “Don't tell anyone I told you that.”

“I won't,” she gave a minimal smile. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Why?” she snickered slightly.

“Because. I was feeling a little lonely,” Quinn’s heart skipped a beat.

Quinn Fabray. Maybe doing the right thing by giving Rachel a chance.

“I don’t have too many friends at this school,” Rachel shook her head. “Not saying that we’re friends or anything but-”

“We’re not,” Quinn cut off. “But...I’m open to it.”

Rachel instantly brightened, immediately trying to hide it the moment she grinned widely.

Quinn Fabray. Can kind of admit that Rachel’s a little cute.

***

“Brit, if we’re gonna make a poster, you can’t use that colour,” Santana pointed out with a small chuckle, handing over the red pencil. 

“But I like pink,” she pouted. 

“But we’re doing the theme death. Pink looks too happy,” Santana smiled, grabbing a black inked pen. 

Quinn Fabray. Bored. Like, very bored. 

“Should I write the title around...?” the Latina asked, gesturing around the top of the page. "Here?"

“Ok, I’m out,” Quinn kicked her chair back and rose from her seat, dismissing her two friends immediately. 

“Oh, okay bye Quinn,” Brittany waved enthusiastically, the brunette just rolling her eyes. 

Quinn Fabray. Likes her friends. Usually. She just couldn't help but to feel a tad...left out. Especially because fate chose for them to be together. Maybe that’s the same for her and Rachel? Doubt it. 

She sat inside the usual cubicle looking at the graffiti she called a masterpiece. She felt a little more comfortable when she saw it. 

_I’m fucking gay. Deal with it._

_Same_

_And I’m fine with it_

She chuckled a little. Maybe they were the first words they ever said to each other. Proper words.

Her eyes glanced down as she looked over the reply. 

_I think I’m starting to figure out who you are…_

She smiled. And chuckled. The writing was the same, maybe a tad messier than it was before. Slightly more slanted than what she expected, but most definitely the same handwriting. 

_Really?_

She wrote back playfully. 

_I think I’m starting to figure out who you are…_

She left the stall, right then and there, a happier person.


	4. Chapter 4

“There are so many lyrics,” Brittany complained, staring down at her sheet music. “They’re making me so confused.”

“The chorus has five lines Brit,” Santana smiled over with a sincere look. 

“I can’t be bothered with this assignment,” Quinn flicked past her notebook, trying to find a blank page. “We have an assignment in basically every class. But…” her eyes glanced over the room and sighed. Rachel was sitting by the grand piano, her hands lightly pressing against the white keys. “I do like music.”

“Music is the best subject,” even Santana agreed. “The teacher’s nice, the songs we sing are good, and it’s surprisingly the least terrible thing we do.”

“Well, I’m gonna go practise,” the blonde stood, collecting her sheet music into her hands to approach the piano. The brunette girl snapped her head up, meeting her gaze with a surprised expression.

_“Quinn?”_

She wasn’t sure who had said it. It was either Santana and Brittany, literally screaming at her, or Rachel, piping it out with a small gasp. Either way she didn't really care.

Quinn Fabray. Thought that Rachel was kind of cute when she peered up at her like that. And what made it better was the courage she was able to muster up to actually walk up to her.

“Oh,” Rachel shook her head and scooted over on the seat. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Y-Yeah,” the blonde tried to raise her head higher as she slowly sat herself down on the piano seat. It was a lot harder than she imagined. Both fabric and emotion wise. But the small rush made her excited. “How’s the song going?”

“The piece is going quite well,” Rachel slammed down a chord, making Quinn yelp a little. She snapped her head over to her in excitement. “I love this arrangement.”

“I-It’s just _Amazing Grace_ ,” 

“But it’s different from the traditional version,” Rachel beamed. “At least, from the one that we did in choir.”

“Sounds fun,”

Quinn Fabray. Maybe doubting their compatibility? Not really but...well, Rachel wasn’t her usual type. But there was no doubt that she kind of liked her. In a weird, admirable way.

“Do you like music?” she asked, her eyes on her sheets of music.

“Yeah, I love it,” somewhat of a small lie. She didn’t mind it. Wasn't her absolute favourite. She honestly took the subject just because Santana wanted to, which meant that Brittany wanted to, which meant that she had to basically take it. “I took the subject. It’s a given, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” instead of feeling intimidated, she actually cracked a small smile. Quinn was a little surprised at that. But she wasn’t complaining. At all. “What do you like about music?”

_You._

“What we cover, the practicals, the teacher-” Quinn blabbered on.

“Mr Shue is the best, isn’t he?” she giggled. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” 

“I used to have a crush of Mr Shue,” she gave a childish chuckle. Quinn’s lips parted as she widened her eyes. She blinked for a moment before letting out a hum. 

Quinn Fabray. Confused? Kind of shocked? 

“I-I see…” she mumbled. “...I see it.”

_That’s a lie._

“Not anymore. Obviously,” Rachel laughed. She had a kind of over dramatic laugh. Borderline theatrical. “That’s embarrassing.”

Quinn’s eyes jerked up her brows and just decided to nodded along with her statements. Was she jealous of a teacher? She would have chuckled at that thought if she could have been bothered to. 

She spent the rest of the lesson watching Rachel play along with the sheet music, somewhat slowly and rigidly, but enough for Quinn to catch onto the melody. Her eyes gazed longingly at the girl. 

Quinn Fabray. Confused with her feelings for everything. 

***

Quinn Fabray. Super delighted.

It was weird that she found this interaction so fun. It was like her little secret. _Their_ little secret. Whoever this other girl was. But she had a pretty good guess.

It had been weeks since the first day. Since the first interaction. And they managed to get quite a few secrets around. Quinn honestly wondered how they pulled it off. How no one had found this.

And this had to be Rachel, right? She found out that she was a brunette, and she loved music. It was her favourite subject. Like, come on. This had to be a dead give away. And the pretty handwriting, which was admittedly getting a little messier through their talking. She was tempted to ask whether she was Jewish. But then again, Quinn wondered whether someone would find it. Well, then it would be too obvious that it was Rachel and she might get in trouble. And obviously she didn’t want that. 

So she wrote one more note underneath which revealed a bit of her identity. 

_I’m a blonde. My last name has six letters. I’m in the lacrosse team. Who am I?_

She wanted to keep it fun. They were odd descriptions of her, but Quinn thought that it would allow the other girl have fun too. To spend time figuring it out and so she could ponder about it for days. Quinn giggled at the thought.

Quinn Fabray. Extremely excited for what was to come. And she found herself having quite a bit of fun too.


	5. Chapter 5

Rachel Berry. Actually starting to like Quinn.

It was really odd because she never imagined herself fully liking her. Well, more like Quinn liking her. Rachel’s never disliked the girl, obviously. If anything, the opposite.

There’s something about a confident girl that drew people to her, and Rachel was no different when it came to Quinn. She still remembered sitting in assembly on the very first day of school, and she saw the blonde with her back straight and her expression confident. 

That was a girl who knew what she was doing. And Rachel admired her for it.

“How’s your english assessment going?” Mercedes’s words made Rachel snap back into reality.

“Umm, well. Yeah, well,” the brunette shook her head and continued to jot down her answers for some maths homework they were all completing. 

“I heard that you’re working with Quinn,” Tina chimed in, a small grin by her lips. “What’s that like?”

“She’s fine,” _more than fine, actually_. “She was a little hard at first but we’re getting a lot better now.”

“She’s my roommate and she doesn’t even open up to me,” Mercedes laughed. “No, but she’s a lot better than everyone says she is. When you get to know her, that is.”

“I kind of thought she was a bitch…” Tina reluctantly muttered.

“I think she likes to come off confident, so she has a wall-like exterior. But I think she’s friendly when you get to know her,” Rachel shrugged casually. “If anything, her two friends are an issue.”

“Brittany and Santana?” the other girl asked. “Yeah, none of the Cheerios are that inviting.”

“I just hope they’re okay with me. I mean, I’m, basically, friends with Quinn, right?” Rachel tried to justify. Tina chuckled.

“It kind of sounds like you and Quinn are dating, and you’re trying to get permission to marry her,” she jokingly giggled. Except it made Rachel halt for a moment. Before she actually let herself crack a smile.

Rachel Berry. Actually started thinking. Even though it was a joke. It was a funny thought, the more she thought about it.

And it oddly lingered in her mind, a lot longer than she thought it would. After classes ended, she invited the blonde girl over into her dormitory, much to the distaste of Tina who kind of had to get kicked out for an hour. Rachel _did_ say that she could stay, but the other girl refused anyway.

_“Rachel?_

Rachel’s been a lot more aware of vocal tones lately. It was something they were going over in choir practise the other day. And well, Quinn’s vocal tones were amazingly unique. It always made the brunette tingle in a satisfying way. It was soft and calming, but it had this sweet kick to it that made her sound mellow. But she could be so firm as well. 

“Um, sorry, sorry,” _she’d been pretty distracted that day_. “Are you ready to get started? I have some cardboard and some paper lying around. And I guess we can get started on the visual presentation.”

Quinn gave a little smile. Rachel liked the way she smiled. It was a little subtle sometimes but it always looked like it was a borderline smirk. It was intriguing to say the least. 

Rachel Berry. Looking way too much into the little interactions they had.

“I was thinking of cutting out a silhouette. To represent Macbeth,” the blonde nodded along with Rachel’s words.

“That's a great idea,”

Rachel Berry. She’s always been fairly confident. Everyone probably thought that she was more confident than she actually was though. She liked to put on a facade of what a perfectly confident girl looked like so she wouldn’t get picked on. The greatest part was, she still got picked on. So it didn't really matter.

But the one thing she was sure about, was that, she felt better when Quinn lowkey complimented her. She doesn't really know why. It just seemed reassuring. More reassuring than other people’s comments.

“Hey, Quinn?” Rachel’s scissors rested on top of the cardboard.

“Yes?” she peered up.

“How long have you been friends with Brittany and Santana?” the blonde blinked at her odd question.

“Umm, ever since we came to the school,” she answered. “We all tried out for the Cheerios, and we all clicked instantly,” she grinned over to her. “What about you and Mercedes and Tina?”

“We’re all in choir together,” she continued with the conversation. “We hit it off right away too.”

“What about us?”

Rachel Berry. Confused. A little excited with the question for some odd reason.

“What _about_ us?” Rachel gently chuckled as she repeated. “Does that mean we’re finally friends?”

Quinn smirked over.

“I guess so,” she shrugged. “You could say that.”

Rachel confidently smiled.

“You’re not going to regret it,” she squealed.

“What is this? Some sort of contract?” she laughed jokingly.

“Mmm, kind of.”

***

Rachel has literally never gone to the bathroom at their school before. It sounded stupid. But she never wanted to. It meant missing out on class, and missing out on content that might have been important, but she accidentally had a few too many cups of tea back in the shared kitchen of her dormitory.

It was her new favourite thing: sitting in her room, right next to Quinn, chatting away for hours over some tea. It was oddly old fashioned, but it was something that was unique and different. Like it was for the two of them. And she liked that.

Rachel shook her head.

Maybe this new friendship thing was making her too excited.

As she stepped into the bathroom, that’s when she first realised that it was oddly clean in there. Very clean. Everything was crystal clear and white, and the mirror was perfectly reflective. She stared at everything in awe before stepping into the furthest cubicle. 

That’s when she saw it.

She saw graffiti literally everywhere. Black ink staining all across the back of the door. She stumbled back a little from shock, before staring at it in confusion.

_I’m gay. Deal with it._

The handwriting was oddly familiar, but she couldn't quite put a name to it. 

_Same._

Somehow the conversation continued. For ages. They were full on conversations that lasted a whole door’s worth and then onto the inside of the walls. 

_I’m a blonde. My last name has six letters. I’m in the lacrosse team. Who am I?_

“Oh no…” she mouthed to herself, reading over the words over and over. Just in case. Just in case she read it wrong and she wasn’t guessing right.

She counted the last name on her fingers just to make sure.

_Well, I’m a brunette. My last name has five letters. You should be able to guess who I am by now, right?”_

Rachel swore that someone was posing as her. The first thought she had was a sick bullying prank. That someone was making fun of her and posing as her just to bully her. And maybe they were making fun of her behind her back.

Tears swelled by her under eyes at the thought. 

Rachel Berry. Couldn't forgive them. Couldn't accept that fact.


	6. Chapter 6

Quinn Fabray. Literally never saw the point in health class. 

Sure, it had some important things that you had to learn about and whatever, but it was a hell hole. It was unbelievably boring and unengaging. And the most interesting thing that happened all lesson was Brittany trying to balance her pen on her nose.

And what made it worse was how quiet the class was. The teacher would yell and scream and carry on whenever someone opened their mouth. Which meant any form of laughter and communication was absolutely off limits. Lucky they sat at the back of the classroom. 

“What the heck is she wearing?” Santana snickered over, distracting herself with the doodles on her page. 

“I know. It’s like she’s stuck in the 60s,” Quinn snorted. 

“Miss Lopez?! Miss Fabray?!” 

Quinn Fabray. Really hated the way she shrieked and her eyebrows arched whenever someone said some small comment. It was so over the top and unnecessary. 

“Say another word and I’ll split you two up,” she slammed her ruler against the board, making all three of them yelp. 

The brunette immediately cringed at her dramatic expression, and ripped out a chunk of her page. The sound of the tearing made the two girls peer over. 

_She’s such a bitch_

She wrote messily, silently laughing at her own words. 

_Totally._

Brittany replied, winking back at her as a joke. Her eyes landed back onto Quinn, waiting for her to reply too. But she couldn't. She was just staring down at the paper. In confusion, shock and borderline distress.

Santana raised an eyebrow and jotted down over to her.

_What’s wrong?_

Quinn gulped. 

Quinn Fabray. Guessed wrong…? Made wrong assumptions?

She looked at the brunette straight in the eyes, which were wide and circular and filled with shock. She parted her lips and shook her head. The Latina looked just as confused as before.

Her pen trembled in her hand as she wrote.

_I’m that girl._

***

“W-What do you mean you’re _that_ girl?” Santana’s words quivered slightly.

They were in Santana’s room. Brittany was confusingly kicked out for a few moments, the blonde girl sitting outside in somewhat worry as she tried to listen to what was going on inside. 

“The bathroom walls,” Quinn stomped her foot down. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Oh god,” she shouted. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That was-?”

“Yes it was me,” her brows knitted themselves together frustratingly. “Who else would it be?!”

Before Santana screamed back a reply, she bit her tongue and muted herself down.

“Brittany,” she spat back. “She’s blonde, on the lacrosse team and her last name has six letters.”

Quinn pondered for a moment before coming to the shocking conclusion.

“Oh my-”

“Yeah. And who did you think I was?”

Quinn bit down on her lip.

“...Rachel,”

“That hobbit?”

“Oh shut it you bitch,” she rolled her eyes. “I can't believe this. This situation is just so stupid.”

“I know,” she crossed her arms. “I guess we can try and rub it off.”

“Permanent marker?” she groaned. “We could try. I’m just surprised that we got away with it for so long.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, grumbling under her breath. “And I guess that I’m glad it was you and not some other bitch.”

“You too,” she acknowledged with a grumble. 

Before Santana could say some insult at her, they heard a knock at the door, and they snapped their attentions over to it.

“Come in,” Santana piped. Brittany slowly dragged it open and peered her head inside. “Oh, what is it Brit?”

“I think we have a sudden assembly,” she said in slight confusion.

“What?” the other two chorused.

“Yeah, school captain just said.”

Santana and Quinn immediately looked over to each other, already expecting the worst.


	7. Chapter 7

All the girls were suddenly rushed into the small hall. The first thing Quinn noticed was how they had to be lined up into alphabetical order before they went in. That probably meant that it was serious. They only did this in formal procedures.

As she fought through the thick crowd, she found herself stumbling messily through the door. She seemed to lose all forms of coordination as she elbowed herself through. It was a whole tsunami of girls frantically trying to arrange themselves, and Quinn was unfortunately tied up into the mix. 

_“Ow!”_

“Oh sorry,” Quinn stared down to see Rachel quierving, her arms crossed and her face clenched. “Oh, hey Rach-”

“Stop it Quinn,” she snapped sensitivity, trying to get past her. 

“What’s wrong?” she grabbed onto her shoulder. “You look upset.”

“Nothing. Nothing's wrong,” she sniffed, biting down on her lip. Their eyes met with a sense of confusion and worry.

“We’re friends Rachel. You can tell me-”

“Well we’re obviously not,” she fought. “I don't get it Quinn. I don't get you. I thought we were genuinely friends and-”

“We are genuinely friends. What makes you think otherwise?”

She didn't get a proper reply. Instead, she just got the cold shoulder as the shorter girl fought through the crowd and found her seat, rows and rows in front of Quinn. 

Quinn Fabray. Confused. Hurt. Shocked. But mostly hurt. 

She sat uncomfortably in her seat. Being in alphabetical order meant that she wasn’t near anyone she knew. Or remotely cared about. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, already dreading the absolute worst, and already hating herself for being the absolute worst. 

It was weird for her to think things over with the whole Rachel thing. She never thought that she would screw things over. In that way, or that quickly. Even if that bathroom stall incident wasn’t with her...it was odd. She still kind of liked her…? Not like that. Quinn would never admit to that. But in a way, she was glad that they decided to talk. Maybe just having the courage to even talk to her in the first place was all Quinn needed. Maybe the rest would sort itself out on its own. That's what she was hoping anyway.

_“Good afternoon,”_

She shook her head and snapped her attention over to the front. The principal sat by the front of the stage, a microphone by her lips. Quinn instantly cringed at what was to come.

“We’re sorry about the sudden call for assembly,” she apologised unapologetically. “We know that the majority of you are doing the right thing, and you don’t deserve it. But there are two, or maybe more, that are doing the wrong thing. And we want to get to the bottom of it.”

Quinn shut her eyes, tight, the sense of dread running through her body. She wanted to let out a heavy groan and just collapse, but of course she had to put on that facade of confidence as she listened. She even straightened out her back more to help her with the image.

“You know exactly who you are. I suggest coming forward now, because we won’t be handling this matter lightly. We will be handling this subject harshly, so be warned. You are all dismissed.”

Quinn and Santana were virtually drawn to each other the moment assembly concluded. They rushed back to the brunette’s room and pondered for what to do...with no actual words exchanged. They just stared over at each other, trying to decipher the situation with no actual verbal communication.

“What do you think happened?” Brittany asked, completely oblivious to the dense tensity in the room.

Quinn looked over to Santana and gestured for her to describe the situation. The Latina rolled her eyes and gave a deadpan expression towards her best friend.

“Apparently some girls were graffitiing in the bathroom,” her voice was monotone. “And they said that they were gay.”

Brittany took the statement pretty lightheartedly. Kind of a surprise for the other two girls. She heard it, swallowed it and shrugged.

“Okay,” she piped.

“I-Is that all?” Santana blinked.

“Yeah,” the blonde peered back at her blankly. “Why?”

“We go to a pretty religious school Brittany,” Quinn pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don't think it should stop people from loving each other,” Brittany said, dumbfounded by the other two girls’ reactions. “Why? Would you guys judge them?”

They stared over at each other, trying to force each other to just tell her already. Their gazes became more and more intense until Santana cracked under the pressure and groaned.

“No,” she answered. “We would never do that,” she crossed her arms and sank back on the heels of her feet. “...because we would never judge ourselves…”

“What?” the other blonde squeaked.

“Because,” she sighed heavily. “We would never judge ourselves.”

The third lacrosse player sat down on the bed, in denial. It was a weird stage of denial where she piped out a small chuckle because she thought it was a slightly funny joke. But when both Santana and Quinn didn't even crack a grin at it, that’s when it actually sunk in. She blinked and gazed into the distance for a moment or two before chirping out a little “oh”. 

“...does anyone know?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Not from my knowledge,” Quinn glanced down. 

“So you two are…?” her eyes landed on each girl as they gulped.

“Yeah,” Santana faced away from her. “Is that…?” she closed her eyes. “Is that a problem…?”

“No,” she answered quickly, sounding confident and supportive. “I was just worried about what would happen. You're still both my best friends and that's not going to change,” all three girls eased into a smile. A comfortable smile that was long overdue. “They won’t find out about it unless you dob yourself in though, right?”

“I don't know if they recognise our handwriting or not,” Quinn exhaled. “Our school can get pretty extreme when it comes to these things…”

“But I doubt they’d try and go through each and every girl at the school to try and figure it out,” Santana crossed her arms and sneered at it, until her exhale was cut short with a small inhale. That sense of realisation hit her in the chest. “Wait. Those clues-”

“Oh god,” Quinn groaned, collapsing onto the bed. “We’re totally screwed! They’re going to guess us for sure.”

“T-There’s probably a lot of blonde and brunette girls though, right?” Quinn reasoned aloofly. 

“With 6 and 5 letters in their last name? With one being a lacrosse player? That is incredibly specific,” the Latina basically gave up by that point. “We’re definitely screwed.”

“I’m gonna go rest. We’ll figure out a plan for this later.”

Quinn Fabray. Royally screwed.


	8. Chapter 8

Quinn finally figured out a good reason to have health class. It meant that she could practise writing as she tried to fake her handwriting to look different. Hoping that it wouldn't be so recognisable. So she didn't actually have to get called in to the office or something and get expelled.

She continued to write her name across her page until the loudspeaker croaked loudly. _That never happened_. It’s so old and dusty that the sound cracked through the air. Quinn cringed at that. 

_“Brittany Pierce and Rachel Berry. Please report to the office immediately.”_

As the blonde next to her gulped and scattered to gather her things, Santana was already fuming. She jolted over next to Quinn and death stared her.

_“We’re screwed Fabray.”_

Quinn hated whenever Santana called her that. It was basically only at times that Santana was absolutely furious with her. Quinn’s hand trembled around the pen as she continued to ignore her, repeating her name over and over again on the page. 

“Are you listening to me?” Santana whispered over, her words heavily emphasised. 

“We can’t do anything about it, can we?!” Quinn furrowed her brows, cringing at her presence. “Can’t you just shut up? We can’t talk in class.”

“Well we’re going to do something about it. Or else I’m going to kill you Fa-”

_“Miss Lopez?! Miss Fabray?!”_

They flung apart.

“Do not talk in class,” the teacher rolled her eyes. “I will split you two apart.”

“Go ahead,” Santana grumbled angrily, assembling her things and strutting away. Quinn groaned at her over dramatic actions, staring down at her messily written page. 

Quinn Fabray. She couldn't believe what was going on. And she seemed to lose all her friends by this point.

It was odd to think that she was alone. Because she hadnt ever, really been alone...She wasn’t ever without any friends. Obviously she still had a few acquaintances and all that but they weren't Brittany, Santana or Rachel.

_Rachel._

She couldn't help but to feel bad. She didn't really know what was going on with Rachel’s head and what she was upset about, but she wanted to help. And at this point, she had nothing to lose really. She didn't exactly have Brittany and Santana on her shoulder staring down at her so she wouldn't talk to Rachel. 

_So. Well, there goes nothing._

“Quinn?”

The blonde knocked on Rachel's dorm room after her last period. Rachel looked a little paler than she remembered. Her eyes were a tad sunken in, and she gave a deep yawn as she opened the door.

“Hey Rachel,” she spoke back, the words harder to say than she expected. “We need to talk.”

She instantly regretted making it a demand, not a question. It was that overbearing sort of Quinn that she hated to bring out.

“About what?” she snapped, not even looking at her in the eyes. Quinn cringed.

“Can I come in?” she mumbled, and Rachel reluctantly widened the door further, giving her just enough space to squeeze through. Quinn’s arm lightly grazed past her shoulder, and she felt the sense of reality kick in for a moment. Like she finally realised that this was all a reality, and not some dream. Which meant that she couldn't just get up and expect everything to be solved.

“Look Quinn,” Rachel closed the door behind her. “I’ve already had a bad day today. Please don't make it any worse for me.”

The blonde parted her lips.

“I heard that you got called into the principal's office…” she whispered. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I-I just don't get it,” she shook her head. “I don't get why you would make fun of me like that.”

“W-What?” she scoffed in utter shock. “What are you talking-?”

“The writing in the bathroom,” she pressed her back against the doorframe. “You’re the one who wrote about me, right? Didn't you pretend to be me or something?”

“What are you talking about…?” she said in a low voice.

“It obviously had to be me that you were writing about! You and Brittany talked about music for ages and you said I was a brunette with 5 letters in my last name and-”

“Rachel,” she cut off. “That wasn't me, I swear.”

“How many other people like music? And you talked about Mr Shue! I told you about him and-”

“Rachel, please listen,” she pleaded. “You've got the situation all wrong. Just listen for a minute.”

“I don't want to hear it Quinn. Whatever you're going to say is going to hurt and I really can't do this anymore,” she glanced down.

“Give me a minute. A singular minute. That's all I need,” the passion and confidence in her eyes made Rachel cave in.

“A minute. Then you have to get out,”

Quinn swallowed.

“It wasn't Brittany who wrote those replies,” she hated telling this story. Just because of all the mess that was caused by it. All the things she had to go through because of it, and the uncertainty for what would happen if she said it to anyone. Especially to Rachel. Who was someone who had to deal with the consequences of Quinn’s mistake. “It was…” her voice hitched. “It was me.”

“W-What?” she choked.

“And it wasn't someone posing as you. It was…” she closed her eyes. _Sorry_. She couldn't help but to apologise because she was dragging her friend, _ex-friend maybe?_ , into it. Even though it wasn't really her place to. “Santana. And she wasn't being rude to you.”

“What am I meant to expect? She's never done anything nice to me. Ever,” Rachel groaned, her patience low with the story.

“Because she wouldn't do that to herself,” she sighed. “She did it thinking that I was Brittany.”

“Oh…” Rachel’s lips parted for a moment to let the thought sink in. That heavy thought that felt bitter and unreal on her tongue. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist for a moment. “Then why did you write on those walls?” 

Rachel blinked towards her. Her oblivion made Quinn’s chest ache with stupidity. Charming stupidity. In a way. 

“Well…” she started off, a lump in her throat. She gulped and her voice cracked. “Because I thought it was…” she bit down on her lip. 

“Well?” she ushered her to answer. “A minute’s nearly up.”

“I thought it was…”

Quinn Fabray. Always thought she was strong. Or liked to think she was. But at the end of the day, she wasn't. And in that moment, it truly kicked in.

“No one,”

“So you were messing with Santana? Not posing as me?” she asked over, hurt underlining her words. Quinn didn't answer. She just glanced down, the words she wanted to say clogging in her throat. “...I don't know if that's any better Quinn.”

“I-It’s not what it…” she didn't even know what her excuse was going to be.

“Santana’s never been that nice to me but I don't think she deserves that torment either,” she continued. 

“It’s a misunderstanding though…” she whispered, already knowing that she couldn't get herself out of it.

“I’ll give you fifteen seconds to explain it then. Nothing more, nothing less,” Rachel tried to pull a confident face, but even Quinn could could tell that it was cracking apart. “So? Are you going to say something?”

Quinn Fabray. She had to be strong. If anything, she had to be strong right then and there. 

“I thought I was writing to you, Rachel.”


	9. Chapter 9

Rachel gave out a chuckle of almost disbelief. Like she thought Quinn was joking again so she tried to brush it off. But when the blonde didn't change her expression, her voice hitched for a moment.

“And you weren't joking…?” her voice was almost a whisper. Quinn nodded again. “...oh.”

There was a moment of silence. A silence that felt like an eternity for Quinn. She couldn't help but to stare at the door, wanting to just run away so she didn't have to be apart of this...tension. Anymore.

Quinn Fabray. Really, really wanted to get out of here. 

And yet it felt like her body wasn't moving. But she wanted to move so badly. Her muscles tensed and she could actually feel the urge for tears fumbling in her throat. 

“Quinn…” Rachel began, standing upright by her gaze. “I...don't know what to say,” she confessed, her voice low. “...I don't know what to believe and I don't know if you’re just messing with me but…” she pursed her lips. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met Quinn,” the blonde perked up. “And it means a lot to me. That you feel this way…” she shook her head. “No. You're more than that. I’ve learnt that through working with you on this english project and I’m thankful for that. But…”

“But…?”

“I don't know, if I can be with you Quinn,”

Quinn Fabray. Her heart. Absolutely shattered into a million pieces.

“I…” he closed her eyes for a moment so she didn't have to face the truth. “It’s okay. It doesn't mean anything to me anyway…”

“Wait that’s not what I-”

“No, it’s okay,” she glanced down to the ground. _Let it end_. “I-I need to get back to my dorm and do some work anyway,” she cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well, I’ll get going.”

“Wait!” she lunged towards her, her hands grasping towards her borderline desperately. “Quinn, about what happened. With the writing on the walls. I still want to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing more to talk about, okay?! Just leave me alone Rachel!” she accidentally shouted, taking back the arm Rachel was loosely hanging onto. 

Quinn Fabray. … 

“Nothing’s going to happen if you leave me alone Quinn…” she whispered. Quinn froze in her place, hand resting against the door knob. It was stinging cold. 

“What more is there to say…?” she couldn't look back at her. “Why can't we pretend that absolutely none of this happened? I don't need to be friends with you anymore Rachel. The only reason I have to even put up with you is because we have that stupid english assignment that we need to finish and I accidentally got put with you, okay? Don’t make us out to be friends because we never were.” 

Quinn Fabray. Never thought she’d scream like that. Her words echoed inside of her. And as she watched Rachel stand there, not moving, her expression in pure pain, she watched the world around her crumble.

Quinn Fabray. What had she done?

“...okay Quinn,” Rachel mumbled, her words lined with disbelief. “I was going to suggest actually being…” she shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anyway,” she stared at her. Dead in the eyes. “Can you get out?”

Quinn Fabray. Gripping the door knob. Twisted it forward. And watched the hallway in front of her. It was empty, and it looked like it normally did, and yet, as she gazed at it for moments longer, she felt like it was doom falling upon her. Like, if she took one more step, something bad was going to happen and she couldn't do anything to go back. To fix what she just did. 

She sighed.

If you only live once, might as well take chances, right?

She flipped herself around and shut the door behind her. Rachel looked back at her with complete confusion.

“What are you doing-?”

Quinn Fabray. Taking chances. Taking huge changes again. She lunged herself forward, gulping Rachel's gasp with one inhale as the space between them completely gave out.


	10. Chapter 10

"Quinn..."

As they parted, Rachel let out a small whimper-like whisper. It was quiet, like it only existed in the world between them. 

Rachel looked up at her for a second. Gulped. Then stared back down.

"How are you going to get us out of this?" she asked over in a quiet voice. Quinn nearly let a gasp escape her lips.

"...us...?" she questioned softly. 

"Yeah," she raised her gaze. "Because we're in it together," she eased into a small smile. Yet it was still beaming towards Quinn as she graciously went in for an embrace. She exhaled into the hug as she let herself finally let go, for the first time in her life.

Quinn Fabray. Going somewhere. Got somewhere. Felt like she made it somewhere.

"I don't have too many ideas...to be honest," the blonde admitted. 

"What if we ask Santana or Brittany?" Quinn dreaded hearing those names. "They're your friends and they're in this mess too, right?"

"Right..."she muttered. The brunette raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a worried tone.

"Well...we had a bit of a falling out?" she tried to explain. "Santana's just mad because Brittany's in trouble. I don't blame her but..." she glanced away. "I wish we weren't going through a rough patch. I admittedly miss her company. A little."

Rachel chuckled.

"I bet you will. Maybe you just need to show her that we're all in this together?" Rachel suggested. "I mean, at this point, I don't think there's any other way to make it out okay."

Quinn let that thought sink in.

"Yeah, that's a really good point," she gently smiled. "Great thinking Rachel."

"T-Thanks..." she flushed a light pink as she gulped. "L-Let's go over to her dorm room then. Work things out..."

Quinn Fabray. Never thought she'd see Rachel like this. So flustered and nervous in her arms. She thought it was pretty cute though.

***

When Quinn knocked on the door to Santana's dorm room, she instantly got the door thrown at her face again. Yeah, that's how she knew that she was incredibly mad at her.

Rachel peered up at her in concern. It was a look that she read as a _"Maybe we should go back. This doesn't seem like a good idea"_ , but Quinn dismissed her and indicated for them to wait a moment.

_"Santana, you can't do that to people"_

It was Brittany on the other side, trying to scold her in a sweet tone.

_"It was no one important"_

She tried to brush off.

_"I saw that it was Quinn..."_

There was another pause. And then a creak as the door opened. Santana peered outside to see Rachel and Quinn still standing there, nervous smiled by their lips.

She rolled her eyes.

"What do you want?" it sounded more like a demand than anything.

"We just wanted to talk to you about something really important. Can we come in?" Quinn tried to sound confident. She never felt so nervous to talk to Santana. 

"Sure whatever," she flung the door open so the other two girls could step inside.

Brittany was positioned by her bed, looking a lot more excited to see them than the latter girl.

"What do you want?" the brunette shut the door behind them. 

"Well I think it's pretty obvious," her "ex-friend" snapped. "We need to figure out something. As a four. Fast."

"To be honest, I don't think there's much we can do," Brittany entered the conversation with a small frown. "The school's basically all over it."

"And because we're idiots," Santana drew out, looking Quinn directly in the eyes. "They already narrowed it down. I don't think there's many things we can do to disprove it."

"Maybe we can wait until it blows over?" Rachel suggested. 

"I don't think that will happen..." Quinn sighed. "Well, if we think of nothing, there's only one thing I can do."

"And what's that?"

Quinn Fabray. Glanced down. Knew exactly what she needed to do. But didn't want to do it.


	11. Chapter 11

_“Sorry…”_

Quinn Fabray. Never, ever, ever wanted to see her parents again. She was hoping that she would be able to graduate, move out and pretend that they didn't exist anymore or something. They reeked of the reality that Quinn didn't want. 

_“We’re incredibly disappointed in you,”_

It was how her dad ended every single rant. She lost track of time. All she knew was that he continued to scream at her for an endless amount of time, and this was the first time that he took a breath. Her mom looked down at her, but never directly at her. Her eyes were coloured the shade of shame.

“We have no other choice but to bring you back home and-”

“Wait,” Quinn interrupted. “Daddy. Please. You can’t. I’ve been here for a long time and I really like it here.”

“Don’t talk back to me!” Quinn shivered in her seat. “We have no choice Quinn! If you are a…” she exhaled deeply. “A lesbian,” he spat. “We can’t allow you to stay here anymore.”

“I’m sorry! I was joking around. I knew there was someone at this school that was…” she skipped the word on purpose. “And I wanted to mess with them!” she lied hastily. “I know it was mean daddy but-”

“Quinn,” he made her halt. “You’re going to come live at home. With us. At least for a little while. We’ll figure out what to do with you later,” it sounded like Quinn wasn’t even their daughter anymore. “Pack up your things,” she snapped up. “Now.”

***

Her fingers longingly traced around her packed away things. She hadn’t pulled out her suitcase in so long. And she hated the way it looked. Hated the fact that she had to see it again. That she had to come home.

“Will you be alright Quinn?” her roommate Mercedes asked over. Quinn was going to miss her a lot.

“Yeah…” she muttered, trying to pull a smile. 

“And hey,” she rested a hand onto her shoulder. “Whatever the school says and what’s going around, I still think you’re a great person Quinn. Even if you have to leave because of this “controversy” thing.”

“Thanks Mercedes,” she grinned. “I’ll miss you.”

“Me too,” she pressed her lips together. “I have to head off to class, but I think there's someone at the door waiting to see you?”

They peered over to see Rachel, her hand clamped around the door as she glimpsed inside the room.

“Oh hey Rachel,”

There were only two of them in the room.

“...why did you do that?” she slowly took steps over to her.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” she sighed, feeling a little guilty for some reason. “I did do it, at the end of the day.”

“But it could’ve blown over. Y-You didn't have to get in trouble,” she said in a waverly tone. “Quinn, I don't want you to leave.”

Her lips parted. 

“...Rachel,” she whispered. “...I don't want to leave either,” she instantly hugged her, ever to tightly because she didn't want to let her go. “Obviously I don't want to leave. But there was no other choice. I’m really sorry,” she sighed into her hair. “We all know that it wasn’t going to blow over and…” she shut her eyes. “There was no other choice.”

Rachel gave her a look of sadness. Like her heart just broke into a million pieces. Quinn really hated the way she cried. The way her eyes wrinkled when she whimpered and how her lips turned down. It made her chest churn.

The brunette lightly pecked at her cheek, making Quinn snap back into reality for a moment.

“Do you know where you’re headed?” she asked over, sounding like she didn't want to say it at all.

“Home. To some public school,” she shrugged. “But maybe it’ll be good for me. I never liked this place too much anyway.”

“I-I’ll come.”

Quinn blinked down at her.

“No you’re not,” she said, well, more like demanded. “No, no. Rachel, you're staying here. You're doing really well here and you shouldn't ruin that for yourself.”

“I don't want to be here either,” she gazed up at her. “Do I look happy to you?”

The blonde gulped.

“No but…” she shook her head. “No Rachel. I’m not allowing you to do that.”

“You don't have authority over me Quinn,” as she glanced down to miss her strong gaze, Quinn gave a long, deep sigh. 

“Look Rachel,” she cupped her chin to raise her eyes again. “I’m going to be okay. I’m going to perfectly okay. And I know that you're going to be okay here. Everything's going to be fine, at the end of the day and I don't want you to do something over dramatic, okay?” 

Rachel gave a look of acceptance, with a hint of wanting to fight back. But as she bit down on her tongue and just took it, Quinn swooped her into her arms and gave her one, last, long embrace.

“I love you Rachel,”

Quinn felt the girl freeze in her arms.

“I love you too Quinn…” she sniffed and her voice hitched for a moment. “I love you a lot.”


	12. Chapter 12

Quinn actually kind of liked her new life. It was nowhere near as fun as she wanted, and she missed all her friends back at her old school, but she underestimated how good public school was. 

Truth be told, she was never really at home. Mostly because she didn't want to see her parents. But she did like school. And she liked her new friends. She entered a few new clubs, and was able to actually do much better in school. As a bonus, she didn't have to be around bitches all the time. So that was nice.

She shifted herself by the window on a warm afternoon. She sighed deeply.

But then again, she did miss Rachel. A lot. And Santana. And Brittany. And Mercedes. And music class. And Rachel. Way too much.

Quinn wasn’t used to the view outside her bedroom window yet. It had been a few months but she didn't really want to fully admit to herself that she was away from school yet. Like, in her mind, she was still back at her old school and this was just a temporary thing.

She called Rachel every chance she got to (which was basically every two weeks). It was pretty convenient that Quinn knew how many calls that each girl got since she went there. Well. She used to. 

It used to be calls about music class, and classes in general, and how well Rachel was going. Sometimes it would go on about her parents. Rachel said she hated them. Quinn said that she hated hers too. 

But one day...it just stopped. The calls eventually stopped making its way to Rachel, and Rachel would never call back anymore. 

Quinn pushes back against the windowsill and thought about it for a long, deep moment. Wondered what she had done wrong, and whether she was ever in the wrong. Because in her mind she didn't do anything wrong. But she couldn't help but feel a little paranoid about it all.

It had been two weeks. Two really long weeks. Quinn’s eyes were focused on her phone as she internally argued whether she should try to call Rachel again. 

_“Hey! Quinn!”_

She sighed until her lungs gave out. She could literally still hear her voice calling for her. Like it was echoing in her mind. Quinn groaned into her palms.

_“Seriously! Look down!”_

She snapped up. Instantly shooting a glance towards her window, she saw the much too familiar brunette waving her hands frantically by the front of her house. Quinn squealed, pushing open the window and screaming out her name desperately.

“Rachel?! Oh my god!” she brought her hands to her lips. “What are you doing here?!”

“I’m sorry! I would’ve told you but,” she smiled. “I would’ve ruined the surprise.”

Quinn immediately dashed down the stairs, kicking open the door as she literally lunged towards Rachel, wrapping her arms around her tightly. She kissed her until it her heartbeat stopped thumping in her ears and she thought she actually had enough willpower to let go.

And there she was right in front of her. A smile from ear to ear and a piercing gaze in her eyes like she knew that everything was going to be okay. Quinn’s chest melted at the sight.

“I-I don’t get it,” Quinn chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school? How did you get here? Why are you here?”

Rachel blinked.

“Well, I transferred schools, my two dads drove me here, and I’m here to see you,” she piped out, her words having no hint of sarcasm or unrealism. Even though Quinn thought she was dreaming and none of this was real.

“W-Wait. Your two dads?” she said, startled. The blonde instantly brightened. “Really?! Oh my god Rachel!” she hugged her again. “I can't believe it! How did it happen?”

“It’s a long, long story and I have to catch you up on everything but,” Rachel grabbed her by the shoulders. “I'm just happy. To be here. With you," she exhaled joyfully. "There's no place I'd rather be."

Quinn Fabray. Finally getting that happy ending she wanted in life. It was funny, really, if she thought about it. The more she thought about it, the more she felt familiarity with it all. Even though it was an outrageous story and it truly changed her life for the better.

The blonde held onto the black marker by the blank piece of paper. It was loosely held up by a flimsy piece of string and she decided to hang it up by her bedroom door. Rachel stood right next to Quinn as she wrote swiftly. Like she was writing the new chapter of her life.

_"Sorry, mom, dad, but I'm not coming back. Since you love to hate me, and love to hate me at this point, I'm happy to be saying goodbye. I don't think I care about what you think anymore. Bye"_

She felt Rachel smile right next to her.

_"From Quinn with Hate"_


End file.
